The Innocent Behind the Scandal (The Marchetti Dynasty 2)

‘Not really. My mother’s family cut ties with her when she married my father and he got his hands on her inheritance. It was his modus operandi—fleecing his wives of their fortunes to fund his own ambitions.’

She was surprised at his honesty.

As if reading her mind, he said sardonically, ‘I’m not telling you anything that isn’t available online.’

‘So where did you grow up?’

‘Rome and Paris, mainly.’

At that moment they were interrupted by a young woman in a trouser suit, hair tied back. She looked at Zoe. ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ she said. Then she looked at Maks as she handed him a small bag. ‘This is it, sir.’

He took it. ‘Thanks, Maria.’

The girl left and Maks handed the slightly bulky-looking bag to Zoe. ‘This is yours.’

She took it and her heart thumped as she felt the weight and shape of it. She looked at Maks as she opened the cloth bag and took out her camera. The rush of relief was almost overwhelming. As was the surge of emotion.

When she’d gathered herself she looked at him. ‘I thought you would have thrown it away.’

‘I almost did...but something stopped me.’

‘I’m glad you didn’t.’ Her voice was husky.

‘It’s important to you. Clearly.’

She nodded. ‘It belonged to my father. He was a photographer...among other things.’

‘Would I have heard of him?’

Zoe avoided answering directly by saying, ‘He died a long time ago—that’s why this camera has such sentimental value for me.’

‘You’re a good photographer. Did you study?’

She shook her head, self-conscious now. ‘I’m self-taught.’

‘So you sneaked into that show to try and get some experience.’

Shame lanced her. She put the camera down. ‘Look, I’m so sorry—’

But he cut her off, saying gruffly, ‘When I saw your camera pointing at me I overreacted. I don’t tolerate invasions of privacy well. My sister and I...we were constantly hounded by the paparazzi while we were growing up, thanks to our parents’ very public affairs, fights and then divorce.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

Maks shrugged. ‘It came with the territory.’

‘How old were you when they divorced?’

‘About fifteen. My mother is on husband number three now.’

Maks’s voice was hard and flat, brooking no further discussion. She could empathise with that. There was a lot she didn’t want to talk about either.

She picked up the camera again. ‘Thank you for this. It means a lot.’

‘Why did you take a photograph of me?’

Zoe felt heat rise into her face. She forced herself to look at Maks, even though she was squirming inside. She felt defensive under that cool grey gaze. ‘I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you you’re a good-looking man.’

‘There were infinitely better-looking men than me there that day.’